"Akimaru…" my father began after a quick glance at his brother, even softening his tone a little. "I'm afraid you have no firebending. We performed the ritual—though it's an extreme measure; usually bending manifests somehow—and I'm afraid you cannot become a bender."
Judging by the wary faces around the table, they were expecting either an aggressive tantrum or a tearful one. Some kind of dramatic reaction. That's probably why uncle sweetened the pill first. Ha, they think their opinion means something to me.
Yes, sometimes I think and behave like a teenager. Unlike them, though, I'm fully aware of what my thoughts imply.
"I… kind of expected that," I shrugged, staring gloomily at my food. Still, I shouldn't take this news completely neutrally or they'll suspect something. "My brothers started training at my age, and I still haven't. The conclusion was obvious."
Normal? Hope it didn't sound too adult.
"Good," uncle nodded. "I assume you realize you'll go to the academy next year? And since you already know so much, you can start straight in the second year. But then you'll need to study a bit of philosophy. The rest, I think, you'll pick up along the way."
"I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide," I reacted immediately. What? I really don't want to relearn that. Maybe they'll put me in a higher class—might at least be interesting.
"Where did you learn that?" uncle raised his eyebrows.
"Well…" I even faltered a little. "Books. We have a lot of philosophical books in the library."
"Count how many of us are at the table and say how many… let's say swords we could hold?" Ji asked.
Is he seriously testing me? Sounds stupid. Well, whatever, Agni with him—let him do what he wants, it's not hard for me. While both brothers got busy turning their heads and apparently trying to solve the problem, I answered without hesitation. After all, the number of people here is static: me, two brothers, father and uncle, and their wives.
"There are seven of us, and swords… well, one in each hand would be fourteen," I said. Sure, you could also hold one in your teeth or clamp one with your foot, but let's not overdo it.
"Hm," was all uncle said, something flashing in his eyes. Something incomprehensible. Even father's eyes flickered.
I'm starting not to like this.
"Then there shouldn't be any problems," uncle concluded without developing the conversation.
Fine. Slow and steady wins the race. At least they told me about the bending. Though I'm still sure they messed up somewhere—it can't be that I have no bending.
After that, the conversation became more multi-directional. Not interrogations, but actual discussions of various news. The latest—the siege of Ba Sing Se led by Prince Iroh. At the mention of that name, memories immediately surfaced of a funny chubby old man who loves tea. Gotta remember that. Won't hurt.
Surprisingly, mother joined in, expressing doubt that we could take the city's huge walls, since the moment you ease the pressure, earthbenders seal them right back up.
Father tried to shush her out of principle, but uncle unexpectedly supported her, saying the whole endeavor was indeed dubious, not to mention how much money was being poured into the siege. The Fire Nation, for all its industrialization and wealth, probably couldn't sustain it more than two years. Meaning after a year they'd call it off if there's no real progress. No one wants to risk everything when it's far from the last stronghold of earthbending. The operation was probably only green-lit because Iroh pushed for it. Either we're missing something, or even on paper the operation sounds pointless.
If it were the last city, like with the Water Tribe, fine—but no, resistance is active all over the continent. They have almost no chance of taking territory back, but holding defense is working quite well.
Everything will change, of course, when the Avatar arrives. Even without previous-life knowledge it's obvious. The Fire Nation will immediately be labeled the villain, and with a monster like that—who's easy to brainwash because of his age—retaking cities and even winning doesn't sound so far-fetched.
The adults ended the topic there. Then came less comprehensible discussions—plans to elevate the family… which right now means getting close to Azulon's throne. I understand them; from the books, Sozin and Azulon started industrialization and massive quality-of-life improvements. And in many cases incredibly fast. Hence the atavisms like aristocracy or apprenticeship—they simply didn't have time to die out. Progress was gigantic: reforms that would make you break into a cold sweat just thinking how hard they were fit into single decades. Universal education, conscription, factory construction, etc.
And all under almost direct rule by the Fire Lords. I'm no political scientist, but you can feel the iron fist of the ruler even through books. My extremely limited experience filtering propaganda from truth in my previous life helps. Though of course it could all be fairy tales, but let's not multiply entities without necessity.
And now we'll see who becomes the next leader. So far Iroh is the undisputed favorite. Even if he screws up this operation completely, everyone will still support him—hundreds of successful missions behind him. The nation paints him very heroically. But in the end it'll be Ozai. I remembered that. Pity, maybe? Though we'll see. Great warriors rarely make good rulers, so maybe things won't be as bad as in canon.
We'll live and see. For now dinner ended, and it was time to return to my room. An exciting world of literature awaited.
*
A year later I finally figured out the steampunk system built into our house. And realized my dreams of modernization were dead in the water. The people who built it weren't stupid, and since they didn't care about efficiency, it opened tons of possibilities in branches that in my previous world maybe someone considered but not seriously. My old world went a different route, and steam smoothly fell by the wayside.
Here it didn't. As a result, everything I could make with my own two clumsy hands would, at best, break everything, and at worst I'd lose those hands entirely. If I were a mechanical engineer, I'd definitely make something here. Even now some ideas seem to surface. But everything collapses against the lack of theoretical foundation. And it's clearly not a memory problem. I just know, for example, that replacing this part with nickel might work better. But where the hell do I get nickel? What even is it? Same with everything. Surface knowledge—yes; give me the green light to "go ahead," and I immediately sit in a puddle.
So I safely gave up. If it ain't broke, don't fix it—and I won't touch it. Efficiency suits everyone, functionality too; no one actually needs more. Maybe in military tech, but there's no movement in that direction yet. They don't even have proper artillery—still using catapults. The mistake is obvious even to me—everything rests on the fact that firebending is power. And they categorically refuse to move away from that thesis.
And I myself don't know if this world should be given gunpowder. So far I'm leaning no. Because then anything could happen. Let this world stay fantasy with a steampunk flavor rather than everyone starting to invent bigger cannons. On their own they'll at best come up with some wunderwaffe on steam—and good riddance. One firebender will still outperform ten such gunners. But give those gunners at least WWII-level rifles…
Okay, World War II—gotta write that down. Maybe more will surface later.
Then firebenders are screwed. And everyone else. I seriously doubt you can raise an earth wall faster than a bullet flies. An arrow—maybe. A bullet—no way.
So we'll do without chaos in this world. If I do have bending.
If I don't—then it's not my fault, I need to even the odds. I'll mix some gunpowder and start making cannons; their own fault. Then we'll see who beats whom.
Anyway, these are purely philosophical questions, and it's time for school. As uncle promised, I started straight in the second year. The kids there are older, and moreover, I'll be studying with my cousin—which, honestly, promises trouble.
My brothers really didn't like that I started getting attention. Uncle and father began casually probing my knowledge level at almost every family gathering, praise became frequent, and everything would be fine… if in their plans I was actually worth something. To my slight chilling horror, I already overheard discussions of my engagement. The elders will choose for themselves, and the youngest will be married off to someone who brings more influence. Why? Smart, but no bending.
That's when I realized things smelled like kerosene. Of course I don't believe it'll be like in evil books—"and they marry me off to an old hag"—but I have no intention of getting married! Maybe for great love, and even then we'll see.
Though for them it's more philosophical debates over a cup of something hot—and definitely not tea. But I have thoughts on the matter, and I don't see them introducing me to a pretty shy girl they want to pair me with early. That's probably the only scenario where I wouldn't mind. Otherwise—no thanks.
Anyway, I took note. I still have time—engagements here happen at fourteen. I'm six. I'll think of something.
Father himself took me to school. It was strange—honestly, it was literally a hundred meters from home, and I thought they'd just point the direction and off I go. Nope, they took me—thankfully not by the hand—and led me outside.
My god, this is my first time stepping outside the house!
Hmm, for some reason my gaze automatically lifted to the sky. It's not different, of course, but the air somehow smelled of freedom. Hard to describe: one step beyond the estate and the wind seemed cheerful, approving; if father weren't nearby, I'd probably lose myself and run straight into that enticing wind like a sailboat…
Shaking my head and snapping out of the momentary trance, I started examining the surroundings.
What can I say—pretty nice.
Style almost like home—steampunk emerging alongside dying Asian traditions. Different houses no smaller than ours were simply crawling with pipes like freshly dug earth with worms.
Bit pompous, but what can you do? The surroundings really are impressive.
Here and there along the paved road rode soldiers in uniform or ordinary merchants.
But there weren't many people. This is, after all, the most elite sector, right on the street leading to the Fire Lord's palace gates. So no spontaneous markets or random passers-by.
Everything was accordingly spotless. Every tile, every fence—pristine.
The only thing that annoys me most is the red color. Roof tiles burgundy, walls mostly red brick, and people's clothing… well, red in different shades. What else?
With this abundance of red, sooner or later I'll go cuckoo.
We walked the distance at a normal pace, and honestly it was a little embarrassing. For some reason I thought aristocrats should show off as much as possible and travel even a hundred meters in some limousine equivalent.
Nope. Everyone calmly walks.
The school was… an ordinary three-story building, of course with Fire Nation banners. If anything is everywhere here, it's these symbols.
Even mentioning it feels silly.
"Oh, this is the bathroom—three banners. And this is the toilet—only two. This is my room—four."
And so on. You just have to understand there are a lo-o-ot of them.
Well, father took me straight to my classroom. Everything looked quite civilized: a teacher who looked like "Professor McGonagall," children sitting quietly and straight at individual desks, dressed absolutely identically (like me), and a chalkboard.
Neat, minimalist, no frills. Clearly a school for firebenders known for their hot tempers. Phew. Ha.
But what else to expect from kids with real weapons in their hands surrounded by nothing but shades of red? And add that they're golden youth. If the teachers manage to keep them in check, they deserve "teacher of the year." And early retirement with hazard pay.
No, seriously—easier to… anything is easier, lord. Good thing most parents seem to understand what their darlings are like and what needs to be done to cram at least a crumb of knowledge into their heads.
I sat down under ve-e-ery interesting stares from all my classmates.
Oh, I forgot to mention, right? It's an all-boys school. I stood out by starting straight in second year. And I have no bending, and I wasn't taught any martial arts.
Well, fuck—what could possibly go wrong?